


Will You Always Make Me Miso Soup?

by blackfin



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackfin/pseuds/blackfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba notices that Koujaku is acting a bit weirdly at the dinner table. While he can't quite figure out what it is Koujaku is thinking, he has a feeling that the night is going to end on a special note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Always Make Me Miso Soup?

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for shinocchi over on tumblr for the dmmdficexchange!

Koujaku’s cheeks were the color of boiled octopus. 

Taking another bite of his curry, Aoba gazed silently at his plate and wondered if he should, once again, ask Koujaku what was going on with him. The other five times he had asked since he had gotten home from Heibons had been met with light hearted, albeit nervous chuckles and dismissive waves of the hand, followed by Koujaku reassuring him that he was fine, nothing was wrong. The fact that Koujaku’s face had remained in a constant state of high school girl level blushing and not a moment had passed where he hadn’t been fidgeting, squirming or twitching like a prey animal out in an open field hadn’t exactly filled Aoba with confidence in Koujaku’s answer but, since he didn’t seem that willing to reveal what was going on to him just let, Aoba was willing to leave it be for now. Koujaku would let him know eventually; if he didn’t, Aoba had his ways to get him talking. He’d give him until he finished his curry before this school boy about to confess act had to stop. 

“Did you get any new clients today?” Aoba asked in an attempt to fill the silence. 

To his bemusement, Koujaku jumped a little before giving a small smile and shaking his head, “No, just regulars today. I was asked to do a style I had never done before, though.”

“Oh yeah? How’d it go?” 

“Good! It wasn’t a difficult style and the young lady pulled it off very well.”

Aoba nodded, “That’s good. I guess it always has to be a little stressful when trying your hand at a new style, though I imagine you can fix a botched attempt easily.”

Koujaku chuckled softly, “Well, I prefer not to botch it at all if I can help it.”

“Still, you’re talented enough that if something did go wrong, you can easily fix it. Not to mention, you’re popular enough that you could just talk your way out of it.”  
A broader, louder laugh bubbled out from Koujaku – the corners of his eyes crinkled as he leaned forward onto his elbows, his mouth pulled into a teasing grin as he asked, “Oh, is that jealously I hear?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, hippo.” He replied with stern playfulness, “Just stating a well-known fact.”

“Well, I thank you for the compliment.” Koujaku replied, his teasing smirk melting into a softer, sweeter, charismatic smile. Reaching across the table, he brushed a lock of hair out of Aoba’s face with his long, scarred fingers. “Your hair is getting long again, do you want me to cut it?” He murmured softly, curling the lock gently around his finger.   
It didn’t seem to matter how many times he saw that smiled or how often he played with his hair, every time sent Aoba’s heart racing and heat rushing to his face. He idly wondered if he would have the same reaction even why they were both old men. 

“I suppose,” he responded, trying to sound like he wasn’t overly flustered by such a simple gesture, “if you want.”

Koujaku chuckled, retracted his hand and settled back in his seat, “I will only do what you want me to.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“It is.” Koujaku replied, with a note of pride in his voice. There was a triumphant tilt to his smile that Aoba thought made him look like a little boy who thought he had just said something really cool, but there was something adorable and charming about that. 

Humming in response, Aoba ate the last bite of curry, followed it with a swig of water before setting his fork down, folded his hands in front of him, looked straight into Koujaku’s face and said, “Then, tell me what is going on.”

“Huh?” 

“You said you’d only do what I want you to so I want you to tell me what is going on?”

He half expected for Koujaku to just smile uncomfortably before, once again, responding with the same old line but instead, the surprised look faded from his face and a contemplative, serious one took its place. That reaction hadn’t been one he had been expecting. It threw him off a little to suddenly be met with such a mature, stoic face. He couldn’t figure out what Koujaku was thinking. Despite the calm expression on his face, there was a hint of nervousness in those red eyes. 

Koujaku took a deep breath, reached across the table once again but this time, took Aoba’s hands in his own and squeezed them tightly, “Aoba…” he started strongly before trailing off nervously. His head dropped, their eye contact breaking as he gave a short, restless laugh. Red stained the portions of his face that he could see – he couldn’t remember that last time he had seen Koujaku blush this immensely. The only time he could think of was when he got a nosebleed the very first time they had had sex, a fact that Aoba knew Koujaku was still sore over. There was no blood in sight now, though, and they certainly weren’t having sex. 

So, this whole act, this whole scene – there was only one thing that Aoba could figure it was leading up to. 

Just as he was about to open his mouth to give Koujaku a little relief, Koujaku’s head jerked up and onto Aoba, he settled an intensely determined gaze. Squeezing his hands even more tightly than before, Koujaku said in a strong, even voice, “Aoba, do you want to lie in the same grave as me?”

A moment of stunned silence spread out between them before Aoba, unable to help it, burst out laughing. Bending over from the force of his laughter, he managed to gasp out, “What kind of old fashioned proposal is that?! Are we in a period drama or something?!”

“Shut up,” Koujaku replied sullenly, his face an even brighter shade of red than before. “It’s romantic!”

Struggling to get his laughter under control, Aoba pulled one hand free of Koujaku’s grip, wiped away the tears that had popped up and replied, “Are you going to ask me if we can always make miso soup together next?”

The look of sullen embarrassment was almost too cute for him to bear. Still giggling but knowing that he was being a little bit mean, Aoba pushed his hand back into Koujaku’s, wrapped his fingers around Koujaku’s calloused ones before exhaling slowly through his nose. Inside his chest, his heart was beating like crazy. Heat assaulted his face but he paid no mind to it. It felt as though he had been waiting for this – that there was a part of him that always knew it was coming and now that it was finally here, it felt like the most right thing in the world. 

“So, I guess there isn’t going to be any getting down on one knee and presenting me with a ring?” He teased sweetly, not quite ready to let this opportunity to tease the eternally suave Koujaku just a little bit more. 

Koujaku blinked slowly, his expression calmer but unreadable before standing up, stepping around the table, moving down to Aoba’s side and dropping to one knee. This time, it was his turn to pull a hand loose. That hand pushed into his pants pocket before producing a small, square wooden box. Koujaku quickly popped open the box with his thumb to reveal two simple silver rings inside. 

“Aoba-“ Koujaku started but Aoba stopped him by reaching out, taking one of the rings and quietly slipping it onto his finger. Once it was on, he held his hand out in front of him, fingers splayed, to better see it. 

He felt odd. His cheeks were burning, his heart was running at a mile a second, there was a weird fuzziness in his head but, for some reason, he felt weirdly calm. The sight of the ring on his finger didn’t fill him with embarrassment or anything like that but instead, a welcoming form of giddiness. Stupidly enough, the only way he could think to describe it was the feeling he got after he had successfully completed a hard level in a game. Just like before, this simply felt right – it felt like they had both been slowly but steadily moving towards this goal and now, there was a whole new level awaiting them. 

“I’m not wearing a dress.” Aoba spoke up, looking back down at Koujaku’s red, though embarrassingly pleased face. 

Koujaku snorted softly before standing up and settling on the end of the table. Placing the box behind him, he retrieved the other ring, slipped it onto his finger before looking at Aoba, “Yes?”

Aoba nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Yes.”

A stupidly big, goofy grin spread across Koujaku’s face. Without a word, he took Aoba’s face into his hand, swooped down and pressed a warm, strong kiss against his lips. The kiss lasted for just a moment before Koujaku pulled back, pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “Thank you.”

Aoba chuckled, placed his hands overtop Koujaku’s and replied, “I think it’s me who should be thanking you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Vague proposals like 'Will you make miso soup for me every day' and 'Do you want to lie in the same grave with me?' used to be super popular (or, so I've been told - I could be wrong) so I just thought it'd be funny for Koujaku to use them


End file.
